Chapter 5
A key in the lock clicked, and Skye looked up. Holly, followed by her colleagues, bustled through the door.
Chloe shed her jacket and moved to the kitchen. ‘I’ll pop the kettle on,’ she announced.
‘You’re awake.’ Holly dropped her bag under the coat rack and peered over the bucket with an unembarrassed interest that Skye attributed to her being a vet. ‘How are you feeling?’
Skye managed a smile, though the combination of the humiliation over Paolo’s shoes and the gratefulness that someone had shown her such kindness was already causing her to feel wobbly once more.
She wiped her hand down her cheek. ‘A little better,’ she said, although she felt slightly sick once more when she noticed the make-up smeared across her palm.
Paolo sat next to her. ‘Can you eat anything. Slice of dry toast?’
‘Maybe that’s a good start.’
‘I’ll pop some bread in,’ said Holly, and went to join Chloe in the kitchen.
Paolo watched them go and then looked back at Skye with kind eyes. ‘This is kind of a strange situation,’ he said. ‘I realize you don’t know any of us, but we’re all concerned about you. And we know how much your uncle loves you. And that if we didn’t take care of you then he’d come back from Gibraltar and threaten to hurl us all off a cliff. Want to tell us what’s wrong?’
Skye looked at Paolo’s friendly, open face and felt crushed. The weight which had sat on her shoulders as she’d driven up from Edinburgh came firmly back down.
Paolo gave an encouraging look. ‘Sometimes it’s easier to talk to people you don’t know.’
Maybe owning up would go some way to alleviating the dismay she felt. A problem shared was a problem halved.
Skye took a breath. ‘I walked out of my law exam this morning. I got halfway through, then found myself wondering what the point of it all was. And once that set in, I couldn’t face it any more. The page was a blur. Or my head was a blur. Noisy and empty all at once.’ She thought back to the horrible moment when all she could feel was the tilting ground beneath her feet and her chest becoming so tight that she could hardly breathe. ‘And so I just got up and left.’
There it was. The problem might not have been exactly halved but saying it out loud had definitely made her feel lighter. Some of the other secrets Skye was holding flickered through her head. On reflection, they were undoubtedly better kept locked away.
‘Sounds like a wee panic attack,’ said Paolo.
It had been. Not ‘wee’, as Paolo had described it, but a whopping one like she had never experienced before.
‘Definitely,’ said Skye, playing it down. ‘I’ve had them before, and normally I can manage . . . Thing is, my career rather hinges on passing.’
‘That you can deal with in a bit.’ Paolo placed a hand on her arm. ‘Here comes sustenance. Have a few bites.’
Skye glanced down at the immaculate floor, then eyed the toast with suspicion. Having already wrecked Paolo’s shoes that morning, she didn’t want to burn acidic holes in Holly’s floor.
‘I’m the surgery’s nurse,’ said Paolo, seemingly reading her mind. ‘I’m pretty swift with a bucket.’
She took a tentative bite. The residual ache in her stomach seemed to vanish. Even her bile-sore throat soothed with a sip of tea. God, she was ravenous. She hadn’t eaten any breakfast. Which begged the question how there had been anything in her stomach to hurl up earlier. A wave of nausea rolled through her.
‘In here!’ Paolo stuck the bucket under her nose.
The urge passed. ‘It’s fine. My stomach’s still a bit sensitive after earlier. And I’d barely woken up before you all arrived, so maybe I’m not ready for food.’
‘Go easy,’ said Chloe. ‘I’ve got some teacakes in my bag if you’d prefer one of those?’
Paolo grinned. ‘Do you always carry snack foods around in case of emergencies?’
Chloe shot him a withering look. ‘No. I brought them into the surgery but then forgot to take them out.’
‘You know what? I’d really love a teacake,’ said Skye. The mention of the gooey meringue-y biscuits encased in chocolate made her mouth water in a way dry toast never could.
‘A bit of sugar does wonders for shock. And it sounds like you’ve had quite the shock today,’ said Paolo, passing the pack over.
‘Something like that.’ She could hardly tell these three the whole truth. She’d barely met them, and they would certainly judge her for diving so stupidly into a relationship with one of the senior partners. Chloe had suggested earlier she remembered Skye as a teenager. One whom Chloe had apparently watched from a distance but had never approached. Skye certainly didn’t remember ever having met Chloe. Chloe, who looked nice as pie, in a vintage shirt-dress and hot-pink lipstick, and was the type of person who always had cake to hand. The type of person who would never get herself into the sort of state Skye had got herself into.
As for Holly? Skye knew from talking to her uncle that right before Christmas he had hired this incredibly tall, outlander as a locum, and then passed his beloved surgery to her, so she must be quite something. Holly might be dressed in a far more relaxed way than Chloe, but Hugh said she was ‘a brave and assertive young woman’, and Skye felt Holly had an air of self- possession which could be intimidating. Not, perhaps, the most sympathetic person when it came to people who got themselves into shambolic circumstances — although she had let Skye sleep on her sofa.
Which left Paolo. He seemed approachable. But . . .
‘Do you know what you’re going to do next?’ Paolo asked her, interrupting her thoughts.
Skye shoved the teacake in her mouth in lieu of answering. Her problems were like a collection of threads, knitted together. The exam was only one of them. There was Will. And, perhaps, work in general. Her whole life was on the verge of unravelling.
She knew she would have to go back at some point, but she wasn’t at all sure how she was going to face it. But what choice did she have?
Originally, she had intended to talk to Hugh, stay a couple of nights, then drive back down to Edinburgh. Skye swallowed, but before she could say anything, Paolo ploughed ahead.
‘Because, if you like, you can stay with me for the next few days,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a spare room. Granted, it’s not huge, but the bed is comfy. You’re not allergic to cats, are you?’
Skye put a hand on her heart, some of her faith in the world restored. ‘I’m not, but . . . are you sure? You really don’t have to. I’m sure I could just find a B&B somewhere. I wasn’t going to be here for long.’
‘It’s not a problem. Why don’t you see if you can take a day or two off. Then you’ll have time to work out what to do next.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered. She wondered if he was right. Maybe she could take a couple of days off and come up with a plan. She looked around at them all. ‘You’re all being so kind. I really appreciate it. And I’m so sorry again about your shoes, Paolo. Can you please let me buy you a new pair? I can’t believe after that you’d risk being within a couple of yards of me.’
‘Don’t fret about it anymore. We can go over now. Are you parked in the car park? If so, we can get your stuff en route,’ said Paolo, and Skye smiled at the boundless goodwill of the man. ‘If you’re up for it, we could grab a bottle of wine from the shop to have with supper. I know it’s only Monday, but it might help you to unwind.’
It was like someone was answering her prayers. While her father would have scolded her for that, and told her the Almighty was unlikely to encourage you to go and drown your sorrows, her mum would have said God created the world, which included pubs, and if he didn’t want people to drink then what was he thinking when he gave the go-ahead to change water into wine.
She sided, as she always did, with her mum. ‘Sounds great.’
* * *
Paolo led the way home, after another cup of tea. Not much farther along the harbour front, they stopped outside a tall, white rendered building.
‘Can I take this?’ Paolo stuck out a hand to carry Skye’s bag. It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? The woman had obviously had a terrible day.
‘Thank you, it’s getting heavy,’ said Skye, passing him a holdall. ‘You know, if it’s too much, I can head back to Edinburgh tomorrow. Tonight, even.’
‘What can I say? I’m a nice guy.’
He hefted the bag on to his shoulder. Skye had intended to stay a while, judging by the weight of it.
‘How long did you pack for?’ he asked, panting slightly.
‘I was in a rush,’ said Skye. ‘And you can never accurately predict the weather here. I threw half my wardrobe in. Sorry.’
‘No worries,’ said Paolo, hoping he didn’t topple backwards and crush her. That would be adding insult to injury.
‘I’ll get the wine in. I’d like to,’ she said, following him up the stairs to his first-floor flat. ‘I’ll nip to the shop in a second.’
‘Och, cheers,’ he said. He opened the front door, and showed her to the spare room. ‘Dump your stuff in here. I’ll grab some sheets, and you can make yourself at home. Is there anything else in the car I can fetch?’
‘You weren’t lying. You really are a nice guy,’ Skye turned and smiled at him.
He was, wasn’t he? But what did people say? Nice guys finished last. It didn’t bode well for him, did it?